Knockout
by Layla Reyne
Summary: Felicity and Oliver "process" together after their biggest fight. (A follow-up to "After They Fight.")


**Knockout**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary: **Felicity and Oliver "process" together after their biggest fight. (A follow-up to "After They Fight.")

**A/N:** As a _**THANK YOU**_ for all of the lovely reviews, alerts and favorites on my recent adventures in Olicity fanfiction, I'm tackling Olicity FF#12 – Whatever It Takes – with a follow-up to "After They Fight." This might also be the jumping off point for a multi-chapter fic that's been brewing in my head for a while. Hope you continue to enjoy!

_Wouldn't be here without my trusty advisors – Sandra ( dutch_treat) on beta and Chelley ( rachellebelle08) on pre-reading. Many thanks, ladies ;)_

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from Arrow are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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"It's a good plan."

Oliver glares across the training area at Dig for his traitorous, albeit predictable, response.

His eyes scan through the rest of the gathered team – Roy, Laurel, a very pregnant Lyla – before his eyes lock on the most determined one of them all – blue fire blazing back at him, jaw tight, blond ponytail swinging.

She's got them all at her back, all on her side.

It is a good plan, Felicity's ploy to distract Merlyn while the rest of them secure Thea. Admittedly better than his.

But if they do things Felicity's way, it will expose her directly to the Dark Archer, with only Palmer for protection. Granted Ray has his own 'talents,' but no way in hell is Oliver entrusting her life – something so precious, something he's done everything to protect, including pushing her away, denying what they both want – with anyone but himself.

"Clear the room," he growls, eyes still locked with hers.

"Oliver," Dig starts, but Oliver swiftly silences him with a raised hand. Tearing his gaze from Felicity's, he shifts his eyes through the group once more.

"We stick with the original plan," he orders. "Meet at the rendezvous point in an hour."

"Felicity?" Dig calls to their partner, seeking confirmation, and Oliver coils tighter.

"Fine," she barks unexpectedly, her concession loud and vibrating with anger, before repeating the earlier command. "Clear the room."

The others grab their gear and shuffle out. Dig, the last one in line, throws him a pointed, disappointed glare as he closes the door behind them.

Alone, he and Felicity stare each other down for several long minutes, the silence becoming thick and heavy, before Oliver opens his mouth to speak.

She beats him to it.

"Only an hour, Oliver?" she asks, her voice uncharacteristically snide. "Sure that's enough time?"

"Enough time for what?"

"For us to finish our fight and for you to jerk off."

He falls back a step, head turning to the side, her words as good as an uppercut to his chin.

They never spoke about what happened on the flight back from Lian Yu. During the months after that, beguiled by the short-lived illusion of calm, he made a disastrous attempt at a normal life, she almost lost her own, he pulled away and she grew closer to Palmer.

Since then, Oliver became much more careful about closing doors behind him. But of course she still knew.

"Oliver!" she snaps, refocusing his attention as she steps closer, narrowing the space between them. "My plan is better."

"It is," he readily admits.

"Then why are we sticking with the original one?!"

"So far, you've stayed off of Merlyn's radar. I'm keeping it that way."

"Oh please, Oliver," she bemoans, arms flailing at her sides. "It wouldn't be the first time. And do you really think Thea hasn't connected the dots and filled Merlyn in on everything?"

"I am not putting you in the cross-hairs, Felicity," he retorts, taking another step closer.

"Don't you get it, Oliver?!" she shouts. "I'm in the cross-hairs, every day. How many times do I have to repeat myself? _My_ life, _my_ choice. And for heaven's sake, Ray will be there too."

It's the wrong thing to say, and what little patience Oliver has left vanishes along with the remaining distance between them.

"He can't protect you," Oliver growls, wrapping a hand around her upper arm.

She laughs, bitter and cold, and Oliver's insides twist, painfully, at how wrong it sounds coming from her.

"So, that's what this is all about?" she scoffs, futilely trying to wrench her arm free from his grasp. Giving up, she raises her angry eyes to his. "He's just as capable as you are, Oliver."

It's a knockout punch. Far more hurtful than her earlier uppercut, but this time he doesn't stumble, doesn't turn away. He tells her the truth.

"He isn't," Oliver declares, hauling her up against his body, bringing them face-to-face. "He doesn't love you like I do."

He expects her eyes to widen, another gasped 'Oh,' but instead, her blues narrow, her frame tenses and her face reddens with what can only be read as pure, unadulterated fury.

"And how is that, Oliver?" she bites back. "By pushing me away. By acting like a jealous, spoiled two-year-old with his toys whenever, _God forbid_, another man shows me the slightest bit of attention. First Barry, now Ray."

"By doing whatever it takes to keep you safe," he interrupts, ignoring the truth of her words. "By loving you enough to let you go."

The slap comes out of nowhere, real this time, right across his opposite cheek, and he instantly releases his hold on her arm, bringing his hand to his face as he closes his eyes against the very real sting.

As she stumbles back, he hears the clatter of her heels and the unmistakable hitch of her breath. Eyes flying open, he takes in her ravaged face, surprised at the twin teardrops racing down her cheeks.

"I never wanted you to let me go," she whispers, her voice thick with tears and sadness.

"Everyone around me dies, Felicity," he reminds her, his hands covering his face, defeated by the truth that keeps him from the thing, the woman, he wants most in this world. "You can't die," he pleads from behind his fingers. "You can't."

She approaches cautiously, her delicate, warm hands encircling his wrists and pulling them down, forcing him to meet her watery blue eyes. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Why?" he croaks, fingers desperately clutching hers, tucking them to his chest and pulling her closer once more.

Her voice is soft yet firm when she answers, "Because that's how much I love you."

Staring into the eyes of the remarkable woman in his arms, he allows her unwavering belief in him to seep into his pores and fortify his soul, stoking the courage to do what he's only fantasized about before.

Seeing his intent, she finally gives him the wide eyes and gasped 'Oh,' a second before he plants a long overdue kiss on her fuchsia-painted lips. She breathes his name against his mouth, and with her lips parted, he plunges his tongue inside, tasting the truth that is Felicity Smoak.

He kisses her with everything that he is, everything that she believes him to be, everything that he wants to be, laying it all out there for her to do with it as she will, for he is hers, completely, and he has been from the moment he walked into the IT Department and she titled her head in disbelief at his obvious lie.

She knows him, better than anyone.

And he wants to know all of her.

Hands roaming as they continue to kiss, one travels north, over her exposed collarbone, up the long line of her neck and into the gathered hair beneath her ponytail, the backs of his fingers pushing the elastic band out, her blonde locks falling free over his hand. His other arm winds around her waist, his fingers pressing into the small of her back, holding her intimately closer, even as he shuffles toward her desk.

When he bumps the edge of her desk chair with the backs of his legs, his arm around her waist dips, curving beneath her ass, and always in sync with him, be it words, a look, the slightest of movements, she digs her fingers into his shoulders and jumps, swinging her legs around his hips, and he thanks all that is holy for her abundance of short skirts.

Lowering them into her chair, Oliver leans away from their heated kiss, which Felicity adorably chases after, but he stops her, squeezing her thigh with one hand as the other frames her face, taking a moment to marvel at the beautiful creature in his lap.

He's so distracted by her tousled hair, her flushed cheeks and her kiss-swollen lips that he misses the path of her hand, slipping out of his hair and down his neck, over his chest and abs, before disappearing between them and pressing firmly against his unmistakable need for her.

His eyes slam shut as a growl tears itself from his throat. A throat Felicity's tongue is gliding up, leaving a path of fire in its wake. She reaches his ear, her warm breath tickling, just as her fingers mold around his cock, stroking him through his jeans.

"Felicity," he groans, fingers fisting in her hair.

Lips behind his ear, he can feel her smirking there, as she answers his groan with another provocative stroke and an even more tantalizing confession, one he suspected before but is infinitely better hearing aloud. "I saw you, in my chair that one time. I watched, and I wondered..."

Jerking her face out of his neck, Oliver's fingers tighten in her hair. "Wondered what?" he asks, his other hand trailing up her inner thigh to the edge of her panties, teasing her through the lace.

"How good the make-up sex would be," she answers, voice rough with need, the invitation clear.

And Oliver accepts it without a second thought, slamming their mouths together once more, and from there, it's anything but slow and teasing.

Working fast, Felicity rips her dress off over her head and then does the same with his shirt, before turning her attention to his belt and zipper. Oliver races to keep up, toeing off his shoes, unclasping her bra and lifting his hips as she struggles to push down his jeans and boxers. And then finally, he's in her hand, her fingers wrapped tightly around his cock, stroking firm, long and hard. It's better than any fantasy he's ever had, and if the surge of wetness coating his fingers playing inside her panties is any indication, real life is off the charts for her too.

Without delay, Oliver untangles his feet from the jeans and boxers at his ankles, stands, and with Felicity in his arms, mouths still greedily drinking from one another, he moves them to the training mat. Going down on one knee, he lowers her back to the mat, watching amused, as she breaks from him to quickly shimmy out of her underwear. He settles between her parted thighs, holding himself above her on his forearms, his fingers in the soft hair at her temples, as he stares into her bright blue eyes.

There's so much he wants to say to her in that moment – how beautiful she is, how much he's always wanted her, how much the depth of his love for her terrifies him. He opens his mouth once, twice, to put his thoughts, his feelings, to words and fails miserably, managing only her name, hoping she can hear all of that and more in his voice, can read it in his eyes.

Holding his gaze, she lifts one hand to his face and places the other over the tattoo on his chest, right above his heart.

"I know," she whispers, her face breaking into a wide, beaming smile, before she tugs his head back down.

He smiles against her lips, that same wry, goofy, admittedly love sick grin he's prone to wearing around her, happier in that moment than he's been in seven long years, maybe in his entire life. His smile dies a quick death, though, when her hand at his chest drifts down, around his cock, to guide him to her entrance.

A lift of her hips, a thrust of his own, and he's right where he wants to be for the rest of his life, completely wrapped up in Felicity. His face falls into her neck, savoring her warmth around every part of him, until her wandering hands become insistent, beckoning him to move.

He answers her call, pace steady at first, as he learns her body inside and out. Her breasts that fit perfectly into the palms of his hands, the flexibility of those incredible legs that seem impossibly longer wrapped around his waist, the press of her heels against his ass, urging him to go harder, faster, the way her sex tightens around his length, growing hotter, wetter, as her climax approaches. Rolling, he settles her astride him, and with a surprised grin that turns wickedly seductive, she picks up their pace, quickly bringing them to release, guiding them home, together, like she always does.

After, with Felicity draped across his body, Oliver lazily runs his hands over her from to top to bottom, from the crown of her head, through her thick, soft hair, down the length of her spine and then over the perfect curve of her bottom, enjoying the feel of her relaxed on top of him. She snuggles closer, burying her face in his neck with a satisfied hum. He savors it a few moments longer, before wrapping his arms around her tight and whispering, "We need to get going."

She mumbles her reply against his skin, "I'll stay in the van."

Surprised, Oliver pulls his head back, catching her eyes. "Your plan is better, Felicity."

Shifting, she folds her hands on his chest and rests her chin atop her knuckles. "It is and it isn't. If I'm there, I can't be running comms, keeping you and the rest of Team Arrow safe."

He can't help but roll his eyes at the nickname that's caught on like wildfire; even Dig and Laurel are using it now. She punches his shoulder lightly, pouting, and he catches her hand, wrapping her fist in his much larger one.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his other hand lifting to tuck a fall of blond hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing down her cheek.

"I'm sure," she replies, no trace of recrimination in her voice. "And I'd feel better being in the van with Lyla, just in case the Diglet decides to make an early arrival."

"The Diglet?" Oliver chuckles, raising a brow.

"Shut up," she retorts, sticking her tongue out at him, which he promptly curls up to catch between his lips, sucking it into his mouth and earning a wanton groan from somewhere deep in her throat that he feels against his tongue and in his cock. They're at each other again in seconds, and if he doesn't put an end to it soon, they're the ones that'll be late for the mission rendezvous. With great reluctance, he tears his mouth from hers, leaning his forehead against hers as his hands frame her face.

"I love you, Felicity," he breathes, repeating the truth he first admitted eight months ago, just then starting to realize it and now understanding the depth of it in every fiber of his being.

She smiles softly, her expression peaceful even in the face of the most dangerous mission of their vigilante careers. "I love you, too, Oliver."

It's a peace, a love, he'll take with him into battle, and he'll do whatever it takes to make sure it's there to come home to when the war is finally over.

**THE END**

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_**So, what'd you think?! Hope that provided the "resolution" many of you were looking for at the end of ATF. Have a wonderful weekend!**_


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